


Fifty Shades of Grey Warden

by LadyLoreLitany



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 50 Shades of Grey Fusion, F/M, Fight Scene, POV Alistair, POV First Person, POV Male Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-03 13:13:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6611950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLoreLitany/pseuds/LadyLoreLitany
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Inquisitor Trevelyan will see you now."</p><p>The Fifty Shades series retold in Dragon Age: Inquisition, starring Alistair Theirin as Anastasia Steele and my OC Bella Trevelyan as Christian Grey.</p><p>I don’t usually write in first person, and I’ve never written from the perspective of a character who already exists before. Still, I’m choosing to stick with this format because it fits the source material best. I feel like a few of my lines really nail Alistair, but if you have any constructive feedback or advice, I would love to hear it!</p><p>As a general note, I want to assure y’all that this story will contain no physical abuse. I am just not comfortable writing that, so I am adapting the story not to include it. I hope it will actually make the premise better. Some passages are taken almost directly from the novels, but the majority of the writing is my own. This is meant to be an adaptation, not just a transcription with substituted names.</p><p>And, of course, I have to throw a shoutout to @flamboyantwreck, who floated the idea of Fifty Shades of Grey Warden during the FABULOUS Dorian Time. I swear I was kidding when I said I was going to write it. But thank you just the same. LoL</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FlamboyantWreck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlamboyantWreck/gifts).



I scowl in frustration and squint, trying to see myself in the glass of the tall, thin windows by the desk. Normally I’m not this picky about my hair. 

I chuckle to myself. Okay, fine. That’s a lie. I am always this picky about my hair. But my hair is fine, really. I’m just extra fidgety today.

Sighing heavily, I begin to pace. I can’t help thinking that I should be doing something more important for the Grey Wardens. Normally someone like Stroud would run errands like this. He’s good with people. I get all flustered and then I blush and stammer and all sorts of embarrassing things. I stop, feeling my cheeks get warm. Great. Now I’m blushing because I thought about blushing. Good first impression, Alistair.

In an attempt to will my cheeks to cool, I fan myself, then fiddle with my deep blue velvet doublet. I feel awkward and naked without my armor on, but I was told not to wear it. I’m a messenger today, not a soldier. This is just a preliminary meeting to see if the Grey Wardens should ally with the Inquisition. No big deal, right? If Stroud weren’t off doing very important secret Warden things, he would tell me this is a piece of cake.

Still pacing, I try to remember everything I’m supposed to ask, and all the answers I’m allowed to give. I wanted to write it all down, but the other Wardens had told me that would look bad. Unfortunately, I have a pretty terrible memory, especially when I’m nervous. I just know I’m going to mess up. Maybe I’ll get lucky and she’ll want to do all the talking.

She. The Inquisitor. It’s an impressive title. I’ve heard a lot about her, but I have no idea how much of it is true. Probably not most of it. I know how rumors work, after all. There are a lot of rumors floating around out there about me, thanks to the Fifth Blight. Oh, Maker. I hope she hasn’t heard any of those. Usually people who have heard those rumors are disappointed when they meet me.

One more thing to be nervous about. Just what I needed.

I stop pacing. It won’t do to have that ambassador of hers come in here and find me pacing. Stoic, Alistair. Stroud is always stoic. Maybe it’s the mustache. Maybe I should grow a mustache. Could I pull off a mustache? I’m still wondering when the ambassador walks back in. What was her name? Josephine. Josephine… Something. Hopefully I won’t have to remember.

“Senior Warden Theirin,” she greets me, bowing again. Inwardly, I wince when she uses my technical last name. I told her she could call me Alistair, but apparently she’s all for formality. On the outside, I smile and hope I don’t look like a complete idiot. Or a partial one, for that matter. Not looking idiotic would be great right about now. I already feel a little plain next to Josephine Something and all of her ruffles. Is she required to wear that many ruffles? I glance down quickly. When I had checked my doublet earlier, I thought it looked nice, but I hadn’t bothered to smooth my brown trousers one more time, or straighten my knee-high brown leather boots. Maker, why am I wearing so much brown? What if the Inquisitor doesn’t like brown? There should be manuals for things like this!

Maybe I should have paid more attention to those rumors. I don’t know anything about the Inquisitor, really. I don’t even know how old she is. What if I embarrass myself? I have to actively hold back my snort of laughter. It’s inevitable that I will embarrass myself. No if to worry about. I’m much better in groups, when I can hide in the back. Or alone in the wilderness. Rocks can’t judge you.

She must be older, right? I mean, she’s the Inquisitor. That’s not a job you get when you’re young. Maybe she’s in her forties. Is that a safe assumption? Why do I think her age will come up at all? Oh, Maker. What does she look like? What if I don’t even know which one she is when I walk into the hall? If she’s anything like the rest of them, she’ll look scary. Leliana’s even scarier than when I first met her, and that commander with the ruff could murder you with his eyes. I recognized him from the Circle Tower in Ferelden, but I didn’t say anything. Like he needed to be reminded of that.

Josephine Something is waiting patiently for me to reply, I realize. My cheeks flush again. I’ve already messed up. “Ambassador,” I answer, my voice wavering a little. Am I supposed to say more? I hope not.

She gives me a bit of an odd look before regaining her impeccable composure. I’m not surprised. I have that effect on people.

“Inquisitor Trevelyan will see you now,” she states, standing by the door of the room and motioning me through. I walk quickly by her, nodding hastily, already shaking my head at myself. Get it together, Alistair! She shuts the door behind me, leaving me standing alone at the front of the hall. I guess I’m on my own now.

I walk out into the center of the hall, taking a deep breath. I saw the hall on the way in, but it’s still a bit breathtaking. The ceiling seems impossibly high, and there are giant golden Orlesian statues everywhere. Thick, heavy draperies with the Inquisition heraldry on them hang from the walls, and as I move closer to the end of the hall, I see that the throne on the dais is also gold and decorated with dragons. Because of course. Why not have a throne decorated in dragons?

I finally reach the stairs at the edge of the dais. I can only see the Inquisitor’s back in the low light emanating from the torches in the hall. They must have made this meeting early so that no one else would be here. I open my mouth to introduce myself… and promptly trip over my own two feet and fall headfirst up the stairs, landing hard on my hands and knees.

Maker’s. Breath. And I was worried about being an idiot. I should have been worried about being a complete and utter moron instead. I just stay there on the floor for a moment, completely mortified. Hi, Inquisitor. I’m with the Grey Wardens. Would you like to be allies with an organization that trips over its own feet? Yes? Great, then. I guess we’re done here. 

Then I feel small, delicate hands on my shoulders, and they’re pulling me up gently. Once I’m back on my feet, I look up automatically, but there’s nothing there. I adjust my gaze downwards, and then down some more. Maker, she’s short. She only comes up to about the center of my chest. Her hands are still on me, and I realize that they’re stronger than they look.

I also realize that she’s much younger than I thought. She can’t be out of her twenties, and she’s probably closer to the middle of those than the end. She removes her hands from my shoulders and holds one out to me. “Senior Warden Theirin? I’m Inquisitor Clarabella Marie Trevelyan. Are you all right?” I blink at her stupidly, stunned by both her mouthful of a name and how attractive she is, and then I’m ashamed of myself in the same moment for the second thought. My cheeks are already bright red with embarrassment from the fall, so at least she can’t tell that I’m flushed from looking at her.

But Maker, she’s attractive. Very attractive. She’s short, and impeccably dressed in a dark gray formal jacket with a white sash. Her trousers are white too. Her boots are black leather, and buffed to an incredible shine. She has mounds of silky brown hair piled up on top of her head in some kind of elegant bun, though a few strands escape to frame her face. Her eyes are the same color as her hair, and they’re intense as they stare at me, waiting for me to say something. I gulp, suddenly feeling bad about thinking poorly of brown earlier.

“Um,” I say, unable to think of anything else. Maker, Alistair, is that all you have to say? I stick my hand into hers to hopefully distract her from my lack of words, willing my palm to not be sweaty or dirty from the floor. When her cool, slim fingers touch mine, I can’t repress a slight shiver of exhilaration. She tilts her head slightly as she regards me, and I pull my hand back quickly. Maker, I’m making a fool of myself. Not that I expected anything else, but seeing her makes me wish I could have made a suave first impression. Or at least not a ridiculous one.

“Why don’t you have a seat?” she says, gesturing to a small golden chair that sits by her throne. Her expression is impassive, but her voice is warm and amused. Maybe she’ll think my awkwardness is endearing? I’ve been told that it is before, but I’m pretty sure all those people were lying. She sits down in her throne as I take a seat, and it’s so big around her that it’s almost comical. I look around the hall again, trying to think of something to say.

“The draperies are lovely,” I stammer. That was apparently the best I could come up with.

She glances at them curiously, and she almost smiles. Almost. Her mouth is very pink, and her lips are very full, and suddenly I’m blushing again, especially as she turns her gaze back to me and says, “I couldn’t agree more. They were commissioned in Orlais.”

I nod. The room doesn’t seem to reflect her personality at all. She seems like a person who doesn’t appreciate a lot of finery or nonsense. I fiddle with the edge of my doublet. I’ve completely forgotten my script. She just waits, and I grow increasingly flustered and embarrassed, finally plucking up the courage to look at her. Her legs are crossed, and her arms are on the throne, and she’s not moving or fidgeting at all. She bends one elbow delicately to cup her chin in her palm as she leans forward.

“Sorry!” I blurt out suddenly, inwardly sighing at myself. “I’m not used to this. I’m more of an in the field person.”

“Take all the time you need,” she says politely. I close my eyes for a moment, straightening up in my seat, hoping I look, I don’t know, intimidating? Or do I want to look handsome? Do I want her to think I’m handsome? I’m not here for a date. I’m here for an alliance.

I open my eyes. I’m ready now. “I have some questions, Inquisitor,” I start. That was good, wasn’t it?

“I thought you might,” she responds. Her voice is almost eerily calm, like she’s not worried about this at all.

I plunge ahead. “The Grey Wardens are impressed with your quick rise to power,” I say, starting to remember the questions I’m supposed to ask. “How have you amassed so many resources so quickly?” She looks vaguely disappointed in the question, I think. I suppose it’s not very exciting.

“The Inquisition is all about people, Senior Warden Theirin, and I’m very good at judging people. I know how they think. I know what they want and what they don’t. I know how to inspire them, and how to get the most out of them. My people are exceptional. I’m sure the Grey Wardens are familiar with such concepts.” She pauses and leans forward a bit more, looking directly into my eyes. “To achieve success in any situation, one has to become the master of that situation. I know the Inquisition inside and out. I’m aware of every detail, and I work very hard. I make decisions based on logic and facts. I also have natural instincts for good ideas. But ultimately, it always comes down to the people.”

I’m shocked for a moment. She sounds a bit arrogant. Okay, more than a bit, but I’m trying to be nice. “Maybe you’re just lucky?” I suggest. I certainly had a lot of luck during the Fifth Blight. She could just be lucky.

Her eyes widen in surprise for a moment. Oh no. Did I insult her? Her face quickly falls back into its impassive mask, though. Maybe it’s just that no one has asked her something like that before. “I don’t believe in luck,” she says decisively. “Success is all about how well you lead and how well others follow.” I can tell she believes it.

“You sound like a control freak,” I retort. Inside my head, I’m screaming at myself to shut up, but of course my mouth won’t follow suit. Oh well. I guess we’re doing this my way instead of the Wardens’ way. They should have known better than to send me.

She stares at me intently, just like she did before. She doesn’t look away and she doesn’t flinch. My heart speeds up and I can feel heat flood my face again. It’s my turn to let my eyes widen in surprise as she says, “Oh, I exercise control in all things, Senior Warden Theirin.” Her voice is smooth. She is not making fun of me, I realize. Why does that make me nervous? I swallow, feeling even more heat rush to my cheeks. Maker, I’m blushing like a maiden today.

Why am I so flustered? Is it just because she’s overwhelmingly beautiful? Maybe it’s because her eyes seem to see right through me. Or maybe it’s the way she’s started to stroke her lower lip with her finger as she thinks. I want to squirm in my seat, but I don’t. Maker, I wish she’d stop doing that. I also wish she’d stop saying my last name, but considering her ambassador’s reaction to my earlier informal suggestion, I hold my tongue.

“Besides,” she continues, her voice dropping an octave until it’s velvet pouring down my spine, “immense power is assuring yourself in your secret reveries that you were born to control things.”

I force myself not to look away from her, even though my heart has leapt into my throat. “Do you feel that you have immense power?” I ask breathlessly, running a hand through my hair nervously.

“I oversee thousands of people, Senior Warden Theirin. That gives me a certain sense of responsibility and, yes, power. If I were to disband this Inquisition, all those people would struggle to make ends meet, and Thedas would find itself in peril.” I’m a little taken aback by her lack of humility. I’ve only met Warden-Commander Clarel once, but I do not think she and the Inquisitor would get along.

“Don’t you have others who help you make decisions?” I ask, getting back on track. I sort of know the answer to this one already, based on what I’ve seen, but it was one of the questions I was actually supposed to ask.

“You’ve met my advisors,” she acknowledged. “But they are merely advisors, as their titles indicate. I have final say over all of the decisions the Inquisition makes.”

I nod, moving on. “Do you have any interests outside of the Inquisition?”

This time she definitely smiles, even though it’s slight, and the look in her eyes suddenly makes me think she’s going to eat me alive. I briefly wonder if I would really complain, heat pooling in my belly. Like I could handle a woman like her. I’ve never handled a woman at all. “I have varied interests, Senior Warden Theirin,” she purrs. “Very varied.”

I gulp. I think the Wardens had been referring to political interests, but she had taken the question much more personally. My mind had gone completely blank. What else was I supposed to ask? I should have not listened and just written the questions on my arm or something.

“What about your heart?” I ask impulsively. “I mean, where does your heart lie in all this? Why are you leading the Inquisition?” I can hear my fellow Wardens snickering in my head. Trust Alistair to get emotional, they’d say. But I had saved Ferelden because it was my home. Because I cared about it. I wasn’t sure I was interested in being allies with someone whose heart wasn’t in a similar place.

When I look back up, she’s appraising me carefully, and the corner of her mouth twitches ever so slightly. “There are people who would say I don’t have a heart,” she says matter-of-factly. I’m afraid to ask for examples. She does seem a little cold in certain ways, but it still strikes me as a rude statement to make.

“Why would they say that?” I wonder out loud.

She smiles wryly. “Because they know me well.” Maybe I imagined the slight bitterness in her tone?

I press on, more out of curiosity than anything else now. “Would your friends say you’re easy to get to know?”

“I don’t have friends,” she answers, back to being matter-of-fact. “I’m a very private person.”

Suddenly, I remember one of the rumors I’ve heard about her. “I’ve heard that you’re sponsoring a variety of projects all over Thedas. Gathering food and clothes for refugees, replacing fallen bridges, taking back keeps from bandits. Why do you do those things?”

“You can’t eat or sleep under gold, Senior Warden Theirin. You can’t walk over it. And it won’t buy you safety if there’s no one to pay to protect you. The people of Thedas need more than an end to this most recent war.”

“Is that something you feel passionately about, then? Helping people?” I press. She shrugs. Is she trying to act nonchalant, or is that the way she really feels?

“It’s good for the Inquisition,” she says evasively, but I don’t think that’s necessarily true. Goodwill is one thing, but if the amounts of money she’s been throwing around helping people are accurate, that’s something else entirely. I’ll have to see if I can find out more while I’m here.

I’ve completely forgotten if there was more I was supposed to ask at this point, and the questions I’m asking aren’t even technically relevant anymore. I just want to keep observing her. I doubt I’ll get another chance to talk to her after this. “Have you had to sacrifice family life for your work?” I ask, feeling a pang in my own chest. Family was the one thing I was missing in my life. I suppose that was why I asked about hers.

“I have a family,” she said shortly. “A cousin who loves me dearly. I’m not interested in having any more family than that.”

“Are you married?” I blurt out, inhaling sharply as soon as I’ve said the words. Why in the name of the Maker did I ask that?! I feel myself getting red again, and my hand rakes through my hair once more.

She raises her eyebrows, looking at me curiously. Is she upset that I asked? I can’t tell. “I am not, Alistair,” she says, and I feel a little thrill when she says my first name for some reason. “Nothing is distracting me from running the Inquisition.” I sigh in relief. It’s good that she interpreted my question that way. Or did she? Was she just being kind? Maybe, if I told myself the truth, I was a little disappointed that she hadn’t thought I’d asked for more personal reasons.

“I’m sorry,” I apologize sheepishly. “The Wardens instructed me about questions to ask, but I’m not very good at remembering them.” I’d already embarrassed myself in front of her enough for a lifetime, so I might as well be honest about it.

“They don’t trust you to ask the right questions?” she asks bluntly. I just shrug in response. I try not to pay attention to what my superiors think of me very often. I hear footsteps behind me and see the ambassador approaching us. Before she can say anything, the Inquisitor has waved dismissively at her.

“We’re not done here,” she says. “Push my next meeting back.” Josephine Something nods and backs away. I smile bashfully at the Inquisitor.

“Don’t let me keep you from anything,” I say shyly. I don’t know how much longer I can sit in front of her and sort of keep it together anyway.

“I want to know about you,” she responds. “I think that’s only fair.”

“Oh!” I answer. “Of course. As you know, the Wardens have their secrets, but we’re happy to share any relevant knowledge with the Inquisition.” She slides gracefully forward until she’s sitting on the edge of her seat, resting her chin in one of her cupped hands, her elbow on the arm of the throne.

“I wasn’t talking about the Wardens,” she clarifies. “I want to know more about you.”

“Me?” I ask, raising my eyebrows. “There’s not much to know. And you probably know most of it already anyway. Grey Warden during the Fifth Blight, disenfranchised heir to the throne of Ferelden. Now I’m just a regular Grey Warden like any other. Scruffy and, in my case, uncoordinated.” I laugh nervously as she looks me over.

“If the Inquisition takes the Wardens as its allies, will you be the liaison to Skyhold?” she asks. She’s staring at me in that almost predatory way again.

“Oh,” I muse. “Um, I don’t know. They didn’t say anything about that. I’m supposed to stay until you reach a decision about the alliance and I can contact them.”

“So it’s up to me when you might leave?” she asks, those big smoldering brown eyes boring into me again. I feel my belly clench as she looks at me, and I glance down at my fingers quickly. When did I tangle them together? What is happening to me?

I hesitate before answering. “I… suppose that’s true, yes.” She nods, apparently satisfied with that response, and stands. She may be short, but she carries herself well.

“Would you like me to show you around?” she asks. I can’t tell if she’s just being polite or if she actually wants to spend more time with me. Doesn’t she have other meetings to go to? Regardless, I need to get away from her and clear my head. I realize then that I can hear rain pouring down on top of the roof.

“Perhaps when it’s not raining?” I hedge, hoping she’ll accept my excuse.

She nods briskly. “Of course. Stay in the hall. Breakfast will be served shortly. Make sure you eat, and don’t walk anywhere in the rain.” She says these things to me like they’re orders. Why should she care if I eat or walk in the rain? Still, something about her words affects me in a way I can’t quite define.

“Yes, Inquisitor,” I reply softly, not knowing what else to say. Did she just gasp? I know her eyes flared. What did I say that was so strange? “Thank you for meeting with me, Inquisitor. I know you’re very busy.”

She holds her hand out, and I take it. She squeezes my fingers tightly in hers, covering our clasped hands with her palm. My breath quickens, and it feels like lightning is running through my veins. I stare at her, and I know my eyes are wider than they should be. I try not to breathe too hard, but I think she’s already noticed. Once again, I hope my hands are not sweaty.

“The pleasure’s been all mine,” she says. Her voice is low and sincere, and the heat in my face spreads to my ears. “Until we meet again, Senior Warden Theirin.” Her goodbye sounds like a challenge, though I’m not sure why. I try to slide my hand out of hers, but she hangs on for a few seconds more, only allowing me to let go when she withdraws her own hands completely. She moves with lithe, athletic grace down the stairs of the dais, her hips swaying provocatively as she makes her way back to Josephine Something’s office.

I trail after her, finding a seat at one of the tables near the door where she stands. I don’t sit down just yet, staring at her perfect profile. As the door to the ambassador’s office opens, she turns her head to gaze at me. My hand grips the back of the chair behind me, my lips parting involuntarily as she looks at me in a way that unnerves me completely.

“Alistair,” she purrs, and a shiver runs up my spine.

“Clarabella.” Somehow, I manage to respond coolly. I don’t even stutter pronouncing her long name. I’m not sure how that happened. My heart is pounding, and I know that I won’t be able to say one more word to her right now.

Mercifully, at that moment she steps through the door and shuts it behind her.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair is confused about his developing feelings for Bella and decides to work out his frustration in the training yard.
> 
> Truth time. I can't write fight scenes to save my life because I haven't really written many, so some of you may recognize this particular fight since I took it directly from the third issue of the Those Who Speak comic. Hopefully I've sold it by describing what I saw and turning it to the first person perspective!

My heart is pounding. I’d like to go out in the rain and let it clear my head, but her words stop me. Instead, I obey her orders, eating breakfast in the hall and hoping no one notices how much food I’m consuming. Damned Grey Warden appetite. It always makes people stare. But the food is good, and I’m hungry, and she told me to eat.

No woman has ever affected me the way she has, and I cannot fathom why. Is it her beauty? It’s not that I haven’t met beautiful women before. I’ve met plenty. Was it her demeanor? She was very confident, and it made me a bit, well… the best word I can think of is gooey. I’m all gooey on the inside now.

Maybe it was the way she talked about power. She didn’t seem afraid of anything. I mean, people might say the same about me because I hide my fear well, but I’m really afraid all the time.

I shake my head, trying to clear it. I need to not think about her for a while. Maybe then I can be more objective about my feelings.

I eat until I’m full. By then, the rain has stopped, so I decide to take a walk. I like the smell of the grass after rain, and Skyhold’s temperature is brisk, which keeps my cheeks from flushing again as I replay the meeting in my head.

I’ve got to be overreacting to something, right? She’s not that different from other women I’ve met, is she? And she was so cold and arrogant, despite the impeccable manners. But, deep down, I had a feeling that that was just an act. There were moments when I had sensed more beneath the surface. A shiver runs down my spine as I remember the way she looked at me, and the questions she asked before we parted.

I don’t even know why I’m thinking about it so much. I embarrassed myself horribly in front of her. A woman like her would never want a bumbling Grey Warden like me. I’m nothing special, after all. I should just put it behind me, I decide. I’m probably not ever going to talk to her again, anyway. She’ll make her decision, send me away with a letter for the Wardens, and that will be that. Simple. Clean. Nothing to worry about.

It starts to rain again as I amble towards the room they’ve given me for the duration of my stay. I recall her words about staying out of the rain, but realize that I don’t have to do what she says. I can walk in the rain as much as I would like.

****

Later, after the rain has stopped again and the sun is shining brightly, I find myself in the training yard. A spar is just what I need after this morning. I don’t have to think when I fight; it’s all instinct. It would be nice to get out of my own head for at least a few minutes. There’s quite a large crowd around the yard, but I spot the commander I met earlier and manage to weave my way through the onlookers to him. He turns his head as I reach his side.

“Senior Warden Theirin, is it?” he asks quite formally. The words sound strange coming from him. He doesn’t really seem like the formal type.

Because of this, I risk it. “Alistair, please, for the love of the Maker,” I sigh in exasperation. He chuckles in response, and I feel an inward sense of relief.

“Josephine’s very formal,” he says casually. “Alistair it is. Would you like a turn in the ring? I hear you’re quite the fighter.”

I run a hand through my hair nervously. “Ha, well, don’t believe everything you hear. I wouldn’t want to disappoint anyone.”

His voice is very grave for a moment as he says, “I think fighting your way through a tower of abominations is impressive enough, and that’s only one of the things you’ve done.” I turn to look at him, and his eyes, which I notice are about the same color as mine, are heavy with sadness. I can’t resist reaching out and putting a hand on his shoulder for a moment. Not many people have seen the kinds of things we’ve seen up close and lived to tell about it.

The moment passes, and he smiles at me. “So how about it? It would be good for the recruits to see you fight. They’re sick and tired of watching me.”

“Well, all right,” I agree, trying to sound nonchalant. I get a little nervous when a lot of people are watching me, but I don’t want to tell him that. I feel my cheeks get red as I realize that I can’t remember his name. I’m so bad with names. “I’m sorry, Commander, but I can’t remember your name,” I say sheepishly, deciding that the truth is best.

“You’ve been introduced to a lot of people today,” he answers good-naturedly. “It’s Cullen. Commander Cullen Stanton Rutherford if you’re around Josephine.” He winks at me, and I laugh.

“So, Cullen, who will I be fighting?” I ask, rolling my shoulders and neck to start to loosen up for the friendly brawl. The Inquisitor is already fading from my mind. Finally.

“Well,” Cullen says in front of me, “we should make it a spectacle, considering your reputation, don’t you think?” Before he can say more, he turns to the crowd and shouts, “What do you say to a match between the famous hero of the Fifth Blight and our very own Inquisitor?”

The blood runs from my face as Cullen steps aside, revealing the very woman I’m trying to stop thinking about. She’s dressed casually in a sleeveless cream-colored doublet, tight blue trousers, and simple brown boots, and leaning on a two-handed broadsword that’s nearly as tall as she is. There is a slight smirk on her face as she regards me. The blood rushes back to my cheeks and I blush wildly.

“Senior Warden Theirin,” she says smoothly, her eyes smoldering at me once again. “What a pleasant surprise.”

I can tell that my mouth is open a little too far, and I snap it shut. “Inquisitor,” I manage, hoping the crowd can’t hear the quiver in my voice. Her smirk grows bigger and her eyes sparkle as she continues to gaze at me. Why is she in the training yard, of all places?

Her next words answer my question, as though she can read my mind. “I stop by the training yard whenever I can for the benefit of my soldiers,” she says. “It’s a pleasure to see you here. I’m looking forward to testing your skills, Senior Warden Theirin.”

I don’t know what to say, so I find myself saying, “Alistair. My name is Alistair.” She raises her eyebrows just slightly, clearly noticing how flustered I am. My heart is pounding faster than it ever has, and I blush more as I realize it. She’s even more beautiful this way, a little disheveled and her skin flushed pink from her exertions. She’s breathtaking. Somehow, I manage to reconnect my brain and my mouth. “You… want me to fight you?”

This time, she smiles fully, and my heart does a somersault in my chest. I try to convince myself that I can do this without losing my mind, but I’m not very convincing. “Come now, Alistair,” she says, and her voice is dark, husky, and warm, enveloping me in her presence. “I hope you’re not afraid to get a little rough with a woman.”

Maker, was that an innuendo? I swallow noisily, my brain awash with images of other, more private ways to get a little rough with her. I immediately feel guilty, but that doesn’t stop the thoughts. “Um,” I reply, unable to think of anything else. She continues smiling and gestures to the weapon rack.

“Choose your weapon,” she says. “I’ll be keeping the broadsword. I like my playthings…” Her eyes wander from my face down to my crotch before she says the next word. “Big.” And then I think I’m hallucinating, because I’m fairly certain she just winked at me.

I gulp. I am in way over my head.

But thankfully, my body moves automatically to the weapons. Normally I would fight with a sword and a shield, but I have training with other weapons as well, and I’m feeling adventurous. I select a short pike from the rack. It’s about five feet long and tipped with a thick spearhead, with a short blade just below the grip. I twirl it experimentally in my hand. I’ve used one like it before. It will do.

“You’re sure you don’t want something longer?” she asks slyly, coming up beside me. I blush again and shake my head.

“Longer isn’t necessarily better,” I hear myself say. “It’s all about how you use it.”

She seems very pleased with my response. Oh, Maker. Are we flirting? I have no idea how to tell. I’m exceptionally bad at flirting, really. Not that I’ve ever tried that hard. But I must be doing something right because she slides back out to the center of the yard, beckoning me with one crooked finger. “Then, please, Alistair… show me what you’ve got to offer.”

A hush falls over the crowd. They’ve realized that the fight is starting. I cast a quick glance towards them, noticing that even Cullen seems to be waiting eagerly to watch us spar. But now I have to concentrate. I might lose to her, if the stories I’ve heard are true. At the very least, though, I’d like to lose gracefully and not embarrass myself.

I follow her into the center of the ring, feeling my body calm slightly as it falls into a familiar stance. The pike hangs casually at my side. She has both hands on the grip of her sword now. I can see how strong her arms are. Her limbs are slim, but corded with muscle, and she doesn’t shake like someone who’s just learning how to use a large weapon for the first time. She knows how to handle herself. Which means I have to watch out.

The silence hangs in the air for a moment before she suddenly springs at me, swinging her sword in a wide arc. She’s faster than I thought she would be, and I lose my balance slightly as I jump back out of her way, the pike flipping up in my hand. I manage to stay on my feet, but my error has given her time to prepare another blow, and the sword comes down squarely in front of me as I step back even further. She’s not holding back. That’s good.

I duck as she pulls the sword out of the ground and swings it at me once more, staying low to the ground and leaping agilely away as she loops around for another pass. I’m faster than I look too.

She has exquisite control of both her body and the weapon, but as she recovers from the two heavy swings, I straighten up, letting the pike fly in an arc in front of me. I feel it shear through the fabric of her doublet over her stomach, though the spearhead doesn’t touch her skin. Something flashes in her eyes. Is she impressed? Angry? No, not angry. Challenged, I think. She likes that I’m keeping pace with her.

Her mouth sets back into a hard line as she swings again, and this time I’m not fast enough. She hits me in the side with the flat of her blade, and all the air rushes out of me in one big whoosh. I turn as I fall so I can land on my hands and knees, glancing back over my shoulder as she raises her sword to strike again. 

Even though she’s strong and fast, she can only raise a blade like that so quickly. I roll onto my back, bringing the pike up to catch her blow. All of my muscles tense and bunch, and I hear the sleeve of my doublet rip against the strain. I belatedly realize that I should have taken it off before we fought, but I was too distracted to think of that. She pushes down for a moment, trying to overpower me, but she knows she doesn’t have a chance as I push back up against her. She’s strong, but I’m stronger.

She lifts her sword away to prepare another attack, and I move quickly, slashing at her chest with the pike. She steps back fast enough to avoid the strike and I jump up, bringing the pike upward in another arc. She dodges this one too, but I got closer this time, so I press my suit.

I leap agilely into the air as she swings at me again. This time she completely misses, and I continue flying at her, the pike poised to strike. My fist clutches the fabric of her doublet and I press myself forward so that we fall together. Her sword flies out of her hand as my pike buries itself in the ground, and I know I’ve won. And I didn’t even embarrass myself. Imagine that.

I was fine during the fight, with adrenaline coursing through my veins. Now I’m very aware that I’m on top of her, my bare fingers brushing the skin at the neckline of her doublet. I’m straddling her as she lies on the ground, and even through our clothes, I can feel how hot her skin is, like it’s blazing against me. She looks up at her, her brown eyes wide with excitement, her lips parted as she breathes heavily. Maker, she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life.

One of her hands moves, and then her fingers are covering mine where they’re tangled into her shirt. Her touch is like lightning coursing through my veins, and my belly tightens in a way I’ve never felt before. “I win,” I manage to say, but my tone is not triumphant or victorious. It’s breathless and deep as I struggle with the feelings warring inside me.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve met a man who could best me, Alistair,” she murmurs so only I can hear. “You have quite a gift for combat, and you’re more agile than I expected.” I feel my cheeks redden again, and my eyes wander to the tear in her doublet that I made with the pike.

“I’m sorry about your clothes, Inquisitor,” I say, using the formality as armor. She smiles up at me, and it’s the look that makes me think she wants to eat me again.

“Don’t trouble yourself,” she replies lightly. “I can always take them off.” I gulp at the thought of her with her clothes off. Maker, what would she look like naked, spread before me?

I have to leave Skyhold, I suddenly think. I can’t think straight when I’m around her. I’ll be a mess if I stay here. I push myself off of her, not forgetting to be chivalrous, offering her my hand to help her up. She stands easily, bowing to the crowd and sweeping her hand toward me. I’m sure the spectators were making noise while we fought, but I didn’t hear them until now.

The roar is deafening, so I lean down to speak into her ear, being careful not to touch her skin. “Have you made your decision about the alliance yet? I should report back to the Wardens as soon as possible.”

She tips her head up to look at me, her face closer to that impassive expression she wore this morning. “So eager to leave, Alistair?” she asks, and I flush at the implication. Maker, I’m being rude, aren’t I? That’s not good. “I understand that you have your duties,” she continues. “Can we meet again tomorrow morning?” I nod wordlessly.

I get to see her again tomorrow morning. I suddenly realize that I’m beaming at her, and for a fraction of a second, she looks… lost, like she’s not sure what to do with the happiness in my smile.

“I’ll have Josephine send a messenger once I know exactly when we can meet. Thank you for the fight.” She picks up her sword, setting it back in its place on the rack. “I must return to my duties, Commander,” she says to Cullen, who nods and begins to shoo the spectators away, ordering the soldiers to return to their own training exercises. I take a deep breath, walking up beside her and returning the pike to the rack as well.

She turns to walk back toward Skyhold’s main hall, stopping briefly to look back over her shoulder. “Oh, and Alistair?” she says nonchalantly, her pink lips curving up into a sly smile once more, “I’m glad the Wardens didn’t send someone else to negotiate our alliance.”

And with that, she’s gone, too far away for me to reply unless I run after her, and I think my legs might fall out from under me if I try to do that. I stand there for a minute, trying to regain my bearings. I can’t deny it any longer, can I? I like her.

I’ve never felt like this before. But it’s a lost cause, isn’t it? She’s the Inquisitor and I’m a Grey Warden. Even if she wanted me, which I’m sure she doesn’t, despite what I think is flirting, we both have duties that would pull us away from each other. But I can’t help thinking of our meeting tomorrow and biting my lip in anticipation.

My reasoning is good. I know it is.

But does that really mean I shouldn’t try?


End file.
